and Mason had ever spoken. Reliving every look. Every touch.
She couldn’t help but wonder…
Is Mason using the whole virgin-on-the-prowl-for-a-husband as an excuse? Would he give me a different answer if I looked like Chrissy?
Glancing down at her pale arms, she admitted she had no hope of that. She didn’t tan; she burned. And every time she burned, she developed a dozen new freckles.
Which reminded her…
It had been nearly two hours since they’d left the docks at Key West. And the instructions on her SPF said to reapply every ninety minutes.
Finishing the last of her Pop-Tart, she dusted off her hands and snagged the bottle of sunscreen lying next to her book. She was in the middle of slathering her arms when Chrissy asked, “But why?”
“Huh?” Alex scrunched up her nose. “Why what?”
“Why has Mason convinced himself you’re after a veil and some vows if you’ve specifically told him you’re not?”
“Oh.” Alex took a deep breath. Unfortunately, it was long on discomfort and short on actual air. She admitted this next part with all the enthusiasm she’d give a mud pie. “Because I’m still a virgin.”
“Wait. What?” Chrissy jolted upright. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
And there they are, Alex thought with a frown. The bug eyes.
“Did you grow up in Utah?” Chrissy asked carefully.
“I’m not Mormon,” Alex grumbled, quickly explaining how it had come to pass that she was closing in on the end of her third decade and still in full possession of her, ahem, flower. She finished with “So it’s not like I’ve been saving it. I got to third base with Tommy Wilson my senior year in high school. We made plans to go all the way, but then his dad got a job in Seattle. Before we could do the deed, he moved away. Then there was the night in undergrad when I swore off my studies and went to a frat party. One of the Lambda Chi Alphas took me up to his room. He managed to get on the condom, but then passed out before he could finish the job. So now my damned virginity is an albatross around my neck. I just want to do it already and be done with it.”
“Hmm.” Chrissy rubbed a finger over her lips in consideration. “And you didn’t think to hit up Romeo first? Healthy, consensual sex between adults is his favorite pastime. He’d have happily had you on your back in ten seconds flat.”
“Ew.” Alex curled her lip. “He’s like a brother to me. They all are.”
“All except for Mason,” Chrissy countered.
“Right.” Alex’s shoulders drooped dejectedly as she rubbed more sunscreen between her hands. “Except for Mason, because he’s like…” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t know. There’s something about him. A steadiness. A…calmness. My entire life, my brain has buzzed nonstop. But when I’m near him, even when he’s grumbling and growling at me, everything slows down. Maybe that’s why I propositioned him. Because when he’s near, I can focus on one thing, the thing, instead of the million other thoughts and ideas I’m usually dealing with.” Chrissy was watching her closely, so she hurried to add, “Plus, you know, it helps that he’s hubba-hubba hot.”
“They’re all hubba-hubba hot,” Chrissy muttered. “It’s like opening up a damned GQ magazine every time I come out to Wayfarer Island. If they don’t manage to find the Santa Cristina, they can always join the exotic dancers of Chippendales.”
“One problem with that.” Alex lifted a finger. “Have you seen LT dance?”
Chrissy shuddered. “He looked like he’d broken his leg on the dance floor last night.”
Alex marveled at how a man with so much natural athleticism and coordination couldn’t seem to keep a beat. “But what he lacks in skill, he makes up for with enthusiasm.”
“It’s something that once seen can’t be unseen,” Chrissy agreed, and they broke into a fit of giggles.
Sobering, Alex returned to their previous topic. “You’re right about Romeo, though. He would’ve been the smarter choice.”
Chrissy lifted one shoulder. “Sometimes what our loins want makes no sense at all. That doesn’t stop us from following their lead anyway. And Mason does have that whole tough, gruff, ultra-alpha thing going for him.”
Alex sighed. “Which makes it doubly irritating that he refuses to believe me when I tell him all I’m after is a little theme-park-level fun in the sun. Or under the moon. Or, heck, I’d settle for out behind a dumpster at this point.”
Chrissy laughed. “What about Tinder? You put up a profile, and I guarantee you’ll be